From the children in the carriage, Alaric learned what had happened after the three Archons appeared on the battlefield. With a single, devastating display of power, they had slain over a hundred wolves.
The three youths were still buzzing with excitement, their words tumbling over one another as they recounted the Archons’s incredible prowess. Alaric, however, was lost in his own thoughts. A hundred wolves. The number of new bright spots that had flared to life in the mysterious space within him was about the same. The connection felt too precise to be a coincidence.
His mind reeled back to the vision he had witnessed when he first bonded with the Celestial Lily. He saw it again with stark clarity: the black-armored Magus activating the artifact, and in an instant, thousands of other Archons falling dead. The Lily had reaped their very lives—nearly four thousand of them.
The pieces were beginning to click into place, assembling a picture he found deeply unsettling.
A terrifying possibility bloomed in his mind, and a shudder ran through him. The number of bright spots in that inner space… it had to match the number of Archons who had died in his vision.
Alaric subconsciously touched his forehead, a cold sweat prickling down his spine. The Celestial Lily could absorb souls. And not just that—he could consume those souls to strengthen his own.
A storm of conflicting emotions raged within him. On one hand, he was euphoric, possessing an artifact of unimaginable power. On the other, a cold dread settled in his gut at the thought of anyone discovering his secret.
From this moment on, he would have to be relentlessly vigilant. He had no idea if artifacts related to the soul were common or a rarity whispered of only in legends, but caution was his only shield. If they were common, perhaps no one would look twice.
But if they were rare…
The thought made him turn to the three children beside him, a note of tension tightening his voice. "What happened after I passed out? How did I end up in the carriage? Who treated my wounds?"
The children, oblivious to his inner turmoil, answered simply. "The blond Magus carried you here," one of them said. "Then one of the mercenaries bandaged you up and put medicine on the cut."
Damn it, Alaric cursed internally. Did the Magus see the Celestial Lily?
Anxiety coiled in his stomach, but he forced it down, reasoning with himself. No, I’m overthinking it. An artifact that can vanish into a person’s body can’t be so easily discovered.
The thought calmed him, but a sliver of doubt remained. He had to be certain.
He decided to enter that mysterious space again. He could still feel the Lily’s presence, not just in his body, but deep within his mind, an integral part of his consciousness. He would try to reach it. Closing his eyes, he focused inward, his breathing evening out until his mind fell into a state of deep tranquility.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the rattling carriage. He was suspended in the familiar, silent void.
"Success," Alaric breathed, a smile spreading across his face. The process was entirely instinctual, like a newborn learning to command its own limbs.
He looked around at the sea of light. The number of glowing spots seemed to match the fallen Archons from his vision, just as he’d feared. "So it’s true… the Lily really did take all of their souls."
Alaric drifted toward the nearest white spot, a tiny, serene wisp of light. One by one, he observed the souls around him. "So this is what a soul looks like…"
Some were smaller than his thumbnail, radiating a sense of profound peace. Others were the size of melons, their energy so potent it made his own heart race. A few were as vast as boulders, pulsing with a power he knew he was not yet ready to touch.
Then, his gaze fell on a smaller spot that seemed peculiar.
"Hmm?" Frowning, he propelled himself toward the mote of light. Unlike the others’ pure, steady luminescence, its surface was marbled with shifting, transient colors that flickered and danced.
"What's different about this one?"
He pondered it for a long time but could find no answer. Since he felt no sense of danger from it, he decided to take the risk and absorb it.
The moment he touched the white spot, a familiar warmth spread through him, strengthening his essence. But it was accompanied by something else entirely, something that shocked him to his core.
A massive, overwhelming influx of information.
Back in the moving carriage, Alaric’s body suddenly trembled, his eyes squeezed shut as his expression twisted in agony. Sweat beaded on his forehead and streamed down his temples. This continued for several minutes before his eyes finally shot open.
He gasped, dragging air into his lungs like a drowning man breaking the surface. Clutching his head, he let out a low groan. It felt as if a thousand needles were pricking the inside of his skull. His face was flushed crimson, and veins bulged at his temples.
The children cried out in alarm, panicked by his miserable state. After another minute, the worst of the pain subsided. Alaric looked up at them, his voice strained. "I'm fine… It’s just my wound acting up. I just need to sleep."
Without waiting for a reply, he closed his eyes and lay back down. He turned his focus inward, sifting through the torrent of new information—or rather, the foreign memories—that now resided in his mind.
Absorbing that single mote of light had not only fortified his soul, but had also granted him a fragment of the memories belonging to one of the Archons who had died in his vision.
It took him hours to sort through the chaotic tangle of another person's life as it clashed with his own. Finally, just before sunset, he managed to organize the memories into a coherent whole. The process, which should have been arduous, was made surprisingly easy by the new strength of his soul.
Alaric opened his eyes and sat up, a strange, contemplative look on his face as he mumbled a single word to the empty air.
"Herbalism?"